Wall and Mila spent the better part of the day putting space between themselves and Havensbridge, and no one they had passed on the road had paid them any mind. They had seen the sunrise from the road, and the sun was starting to dip down again below the horizon. MIla glanced at the caravan passing them on her left, and as the wagon rolled past, she spotted a crude wooden wall, about half a mile down the road – a town border of some backwater of Sesenne.
Mila came to a stop seeing the wall and tugged Wall back towards her. “It’s about to be dark and I’d rather not be on the road then. I think we’ve put enough distance between us to avoid any bounty hunter or whatever.” She rolled her eyes thinking of the pig that tried to have her killed. To the left, about 100 yards from the wall, she spotted a rundown, abandoned looking barn. She gestured to Wall, “Let’s rest here and get an early start. Khila amin!”
She didn’t wait for Wall to disagree or really have any say before taking off into a sprint towards the barn.
Walgrin looks about and nods, “Hardly the best accommodations, but they’ll check inns and homes first. I’ll see if I can get some bramble to give us some more cover us more than just these rotten walls.” He rolls his eyes a bit as he adjusts his goggles, “I didn’t think I’d be hiding out from bounty hunters this week, especially after we helped out the city in their time of need.” He groans and admits, “Probably some power play, trying to keep us from getting any footing in their political reformation that’s about to occur, perhaps?” The blonde man posits idly as he looks for some branches or anything to provide a bit more cover.
“Lle lakwenien? I pissed them off. I’m kind of good at that if you haven’t noticed.” Mila tsks as she inspects the rotting farmhouse. “I’m surprised we got away with our lives. Amin weera yassen lle, there’s something wrong with their political system. All I want to do is find that book and get back to causing trouble.” She sighs while she picks up some fallen branches. “You work on making this thing less creepy. I’ll work on a fire and something to eat. Even though I’m not good at building a fire…or cooking…” She mumbles the last statement as she walks inside the farmhouse. “Shout if someone tries to kill you!”
The smell of years permeated the abandoned building, and a layer of dust covered every surface. As Mila walked in, to the left were three horse stalls, with old and nearly rotted tack going on the back wall of each. To the right, there were two larger pens, likely for hogs or the farm dogs. A ladder stood at the back of the bottom floor, leading up to a loft that looked empty from Mila’s point of view.
Mila groans as she looks upon the less than glorious conditions and drops the branches she had gathered. “Polvec, this place reeks…” She scouts the area despite being fairly certain no one would be desperate enough to call such a place a long term home and spots the ladder leading to a loft. “That might be a better place to sleep at least…especially should someone happen upon this place. Plus it’s away from the hog and horse sh…” She stops her open thoughts when she hears a noise and turns around quickly, her hand grabbing the hilt of her sword, only to see some leaves blowing in the ever increasing wind outside. “Oy. Calm down, Mila.” She sighs and looks back at the ladder. “Perhaps there will be some dry hay up here as well that can help get a fire started.” She mumbles as she begins to climb the ladder.
The ladder groans and creaks as Mila climbs. Rotting hay lies strewn across the upper floor, and a set of shutters cover the window opening on the back wall. A number of barrels and boxes are there as well, lined up in a kind of cover from the window itself. As Mila approaches the window, she sees an arrow lodged in the window-facing side of one of the boxes.
Mila steps carefully in the loft, the rot and unkept nature not seeming alarming until she sees the arrow and the odd surroundings near the window it rests in. She keeps the make shift cover of boxes and barrels in the corner of her eye as she plucks the arrow from it’s resting spot. Despite the dying and abandoned nature of all other contents of the barn- the arrow’s shaft was in good shape and it’s fletching still dry and fresh. Her eyes shift downward as she brings her index finger to the tip of the arrow and just barely presses it against it but the sharp tip pierces her skin easily. She takes a deep breath and holds it as she watches the blood drip from her finger. The fresh arrow and the fact that it was fired into the loft strongly suggested someone else is either present or nearby. Her ears fall flat as she listens for any sound in the loft. The draw of a bow string, the shuffle of a foot…but silence remains. Realizing that in the small loft area she be at a greater risk of falling and breaking a limb if she were to draw her sword in an attempt to defend, she devises a new strategy quickly. Outwardly she seems perfectly calm and secure as she twirls the arrow between her fingers, letting her blood stain it. “Lle tela? Amin autien rath. Sii’.” She called out loud enough for Walgrin to hear her. Hopefully the suddenness of her statement, completely in elven, would draw him into the barn.
Walgrin had gathered a fair bit of bramble to serve as a wind buffer and to hopefully make the rundown barn more pleasant to sleep in, but the Mila’s call in elven caught him a bit of guard. She doesn’t speak that way in that tongue. He sighs and places his sword under the bundle he carries in case there’s trouble, “Aye, aye. I’m coming.” He enters the building cautiously, eyes flicking about as he tries to ascertain what’s happening. “Find anything good?” He replies as he finds himself cursing the loss of his god-senses, mortality can just be so troublesome. He gives his head a little shake as he heads toward Mila, Not the time Walgrin. Curse your luck later.
“Dina.” Mila hushes as he enters the barn, her eyes focused on the window and the makeshift barrier in the loft. She takes slow and careful steps backwards, the rotting wood creaking painfully under her boots. As she reaches the ladder she doesn’t attempt to climb down yet but looks over her shoulder briefly as she tosses the arrow down to Walgrin, ensuring that it landed on top of the bundle in his arms before her eyes flick back to the loft. “Manke tanya tuula.” She falls silent as she listens carefully once more before she takes a step onto the stairs and begins to descend from the loft. “Tira ten’ rashwe.”